On the Wrong Side
by Hahukum Konn
Summary: Ponyboy Curtis has always known he lives on the wrong side. But now he's discovering a new meaning to that old phrase. PonyboyOC slash.
1. Chapter 1

**On the Wrong Side**  
Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to S. E. Hinton.

* * *

Ponyboy Curtis came to a realization that wintry day in January, 1967.

Unfortunately, it hit him at the same time as his math teacher, Mrs. Thomas, was asking if he knew how to do the question on the blackboard. Since he didn't answer right away, she said, with asperity, "Ponyboy Curtis, are you planning to come back to Earth anytime soon?"

To cover his embarrassment at having been caught thinking about things besides math, he snapped, "Yeah, I'm back. But this class is just _so_ riveting; why, I lost my train of thought as soon as I came in today."

Strained laughter enveloped the classroom as Mrs. Thomas's lips thinned almost to the point of disappearance. She shook her head in apparent dismay, and called on one of the Socs. "Janice, would you come up here and show the class how to do the problem?"

The girl swiftly went to the blackboard to demonstrate how to get the roots of a parabola, while the class settled down.

Ponyboy swallowed nervously as he wondered why he'd smarted off like that. He realized he'd probably earned himself a stiff talking-to from the teacher, _and_ from Darry. As much as they might be getting along a bit better now, he still didn't relish Darry saying he was disappointed that Ponyboy was displaying an attitude problem in school.

Sure enough, as the bell rang, the teacher said loudly, "Ponyboy, stay after class. You too, Nicholas."

Some of the guys in class snickered at Ponyboy, and one called out, "Hey grease, you ain't gonna be the teacher's pet that way!"

Forcing himself to keep looking at the teacher even as his cheeks burned, Ponyboy almost missed the other student coming up to stand next to him at the teacher's desk. He quickly took in the other guy's appearance. His dark hair was a bit longer than might be acceptable. He was wearing an army jacket, and his eyes were, Ponyboy thought, brown.

Or maybe hazel.

Or green? He was oddly interested in what those eyes looked like from the front.

With a start, Ponyboy flushed again and looked back at the teacher. She said, "Ponyboy, I'm aware that you've been the center of some publicity here and that you've been under some strain because of your family situation. However, I am not going to tolerate your sarcasm in this class. If you give me cheek again, you'll be in detention every day for a week writing lines. However, for this occasion, I've a more suitable punishment in mind.

"You are to tutor this gentleman here, Nicholas Westlake, in math. Nicholas, I will continue to help you when I can, but I think you would do better if you availed yourself of Ponyboy's services, now that I have volunteered him for the task. Ponyboy, you will tutor Nicholas until I see his grades improve – and don't think I haven't noticed your own grades slipping a bit. This will hopefully motivate you to pull your socks up in my class.

"Any questions?"

Mutely, Ponyboy shook his head, and noticed Nicholas did the same.

"Fine. Work out between yourselves what your schedule will be. We'll discuss your tutoring arrangements again in a month."

The teacher's dismissal was plain in her voice, and the boys left the room.

Outside, in the hallway, Ponyboy turned to Nicholas and said, "Okay, I guess you know what the score is. Just don't rub it in, all right?"

The other guy shrugged, saying, "Math isn't my thing. But trying to score points off the teacher ain't exactly the road to success. Uh, your name's really Ponyboy?"

"Yeah. Most everybody calls me that. Or if you don't mind it, you can call me Pony. Not Horse-guy, or some other weird name like people try to come up with when they forget."

Nicholas chuckled and extended a hand to shake. "People call me Nicky. Easier to say than 'Nicholas'."

Ponyboy automatically reached out to grasp Nicky's hand, and to his surprise, felt his heart pick up a bit as he felt the warmth from the other boy's hand when they shook. He released the grip a shade faster than might be polite, and nervously wondered if Nicky noticed.

To cover for his possible _faux pas_, Ponyboy said quickly, "So, um, did you want to come to my place some time? My brother always checks over my homework so maybe we can get him to check yours over, too. I've picked up some tricks from him that might help you, actually."

Nicky smiled and said, "Good. Lemme get your address and telephone number." He pulled out a little notepad from his jeans pocket and fumbled in his coat pockets for a pen. Unfortunately, as he tried to click the pen to begin writing with it, he dropped it and had to crouch down to pick it up.

Ponyboy had happened to look down automatically when Nicky dropped the pen on the floor, and as Nicky was picking it up while crouched, he suddenly noticed the boy's jeans were a shade too tight for his legs.

Shaking his head to clear the sudden strange rush of feelings going through his head as Nicky stood back up, Ponyboy quickly recited his address and phone number, then said, "You might wanna hold off coming over until I tell Darry; maybe call us tonight or something. I'd like to keep talking, but I gotta go. Listen, when you come over, just be careful if it's after dark. Socs might get you."

Grinning, Nicky said, "That anything like a sock, only you say it funny?"

Ponyboy snorted in disbelief. "You know, greasers and Socials? Who are you, Rip Van Winkle?"

"Nah. I've lived here all my life and never had trouble from anyone."

"Socials are the rich kids – remember? Same rich kids as busted up my friend Johnny within an inch of his life and scared him so bad he wouldn't ever talk about it!" Heatedly, Ponyboy stalked off toward his locker, and while he was thankful Nicky had the discretion to not follow after him, a small traitorous part of him had wished the boy_ had_ followed.

For Ponyboy's realization in math class that day was that he liked boys. He liked boys the way Sodapop said he liked girls – he liked their looks, their gestures, their hair… and it worried him even as the realization had crystallized some feelings he hadn't known how to categorize before.

And Nicholas Westlake was going to be in close quarters with him for at least the next month.

_Oh, brother._

* * *

Author Notes:

I want to thank **Misfit Greaser** for his kind permission to use his OC and aspects of his fic, "A Purpose for Being", as well as beta work to make sure I got Nicky in character. I also thank **Marauder and the Q** for her eye for detail in her beta work, and thanks go to "the forum gang" for help with choosing the title for this fic. :)

I wrote this because I wanted to write a realistic, involved, treatment of the experiences of gay teens in the 1960s in the American heartland, particularly as I've seen a lot of bad slash around here and I aim to raise the bar for this subgenre of Outsiders fic.


	2. Chapter 2

**On the Wrong Side**  
Chapter 2

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to S. E. Hinton.

* * *

That night, Ponyboy said to Darry, "Um… Ihavetotellyousomething."

They were sitting at the dinner table, and Ponyboy decided that while they were eating, Darry might get a little less mad than if he had made his announcement right after Darry got in.

Darry replied, "What'd you say, Pony?"

Ponyboy cleared his throat and said, "I have to tell you something… and I guess you're not gonna like it."

Sighing, Darry reached for the salt shaker and shook it over the small piece of ham as he said, "Well, out with it already, Pony."

Ponyboy looked at his plate, suddenly not wanting to eat his mashed potatoes (a normal color for once). He half-mumbled, "Well, I sassed Mrs. Thomas today and got punished for it."

"Blast it, Ponyboy – you can't go around giving teachers cheek like that! You know better," Darry said levelly. "Am I gonna get a letter home sayin' you got a notation in your record, Ponyboy? The school's been payin' close attention to you since all that business last year."

Ponyboy looked up to see the disappointment on Darry's face. Somehow he found that harder to stand than Darry smacking the table, or getting red in the face and repeatedly tapping the table as he went on about Ponyboy's grades. But Darry hadn't even raised his voice all that much.

Ponyboy's voice took on a whiny tone as he replied, "Look, Dar, it was dumb and I know it. She says I have to tutor this other guy in my class for a month."

"Gimme a few minutes," Darry said. "I want to think about this."

Sodapop had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout this exchange, and he looked back and forth between them before resuming his dinner. Ponyboy and Darry did likewise, and the silence became oppressive.

Darry's knife _clacked_ against his plate as he finished the last of the ham. He quickly wiped his mouth with the napkin, placed it on the table, and said, "Okay. Well, you're not gettin' a notation, and you're tutoring someone. That sounds kind of creative, actually, for a punishment. I figure that's fair for sassing a teacher. So who's the guy you're gonna tutor?"

Ponyboy hoped he wasn't showing his relief at getting off relatively lightly all around. "Name's Nicholas. Nicholas… uh, Westlake. Yeah, Westlake."

"Dunno any Westlakes."

"It was weird. I don't think he even knows about the whole greasers and Socs thing. I think he's a middle-classer, maybe."

Sodapop's fork clattered to the table and he scrambled to pick it up as he said, "Whoa. Hold the phone – this guy, in _your_ school, don't know what a Soc is? Scotty beam him in from Mars, or somethin'?"

Sodapop had been entranced by _Star Trek_ when it showed live on TV a while back, and Ponyboy tried to repress a grin at the "Scotty, beam us up" reference.

Darry said, "Y'know, that _is_ pretty strange. Did he move in from somewhere else recently—"

Ponyboy broke in, bitterness evident in his voice. "Hah. I wish. No, he's lived here all his life, la-di-da, don't care about the way the rich kids look down on us. Besides, what makes y'all think I'd invite a Soc back over to our house? I bet Randy couldn't _wait_ to get outta here after he saw me that one time he came over."

Darry firmly replied, "Okay, Ponyboy – I'm not interested in gettin' into a debate over the whole greasers and Socs thing right now. But you say this Nicholas fella's going to be over here every now and then. I'd like to meet him, though I doubt he's got a bad bone in his body."

Ponyboy grunted. "Well, I'll invite him over later this week, then; I gave him our telephone number in case he calls tonight, as well. Mrs. Thomas says I gotta pull up my own math grades, too."

Darry pursed his lips. "That means I'd better start takin' a closer look at your homework again, if you've been slippin'. Your teacher didn't say _you_ had to be the only one doin' the tutoring."

Ponyboy smiled slightly, even though he chafed under this renewed scrutiny.

III

Nicholas hadn't called or come over the previous night, which made Ponyboy feel a bit guilty over the way he'd yelled at the guy. School that day was pretty mundane, as school days went, until Physical Education.

"Health and Fitness", Ponyboy decided, had to be the most euphemistically named segment of a Phys. Ed. Class, _ever_. The teacher, Mr. Holloway, had only been teaching the unit for a week and a half, and he'd already gotten embarrassed at least once a class when he had to mention private body parts or certain 'intimate activities'. Okay, so it turned Ponyboy's ears red, too, but he sort of knew what the guy was driving at, thanks to Steve Randle and Dallas Winston.

Not that he was going to thank the guy who thought he was just a pest tag-along of Sodapop's, and Dallas was dead.

But that day made things a lot worse for Ponyboy.

In the classroom just down the hall from the gym, Mr. Holloway strode to the front and yanked down the white projection canvas. The boys, already seated at their desks, murmured in anticipation as a film usually meant people could goof off without the teacher noticing.

Mr. Holloway stridently announced, "Your attention, please!"

Everybody faced forward, and waited for him to continue.

"Today we will be watching a very important film. In recent years, there have been rumors of certain, ah, kinds of people… demanding that the government give them rights. Oh, I'm not talking about Negroes, either. You'll, ah, see, when you watch this."

Mystified, Ponyboy turned in his seat and watched as the teacher made his way to the rear of the classroom, and fumbled a bit as he threaded the reel through the projector. Mr. Holloway _never_ looked nervous. What was on the film that made him _that_ uncomfortable?

The man was licking his lips nervously, and as he put his hand on the lever that would start the projector, he said, "Class, I want you to understand the importance of watching this film. It's… not something we normally talk about in day-to-day life, but we just – just want you to be prepared."

With a _clack_, the film started, and Mr. Holloway killed the lights. Ponyboy watched, rapt with first curiosity, as the words "Boys Beware" showed on the screen. Then dawning horror washed over him as he realized that "Ralph", the kindly man in the film, was in fact taking advantage of "Jimmy"! And Ralph liked… liked _guys_. And in _that way._

And so did he, Ponyboy Curtis. He was a … _that._ A queer, he'd heard guys saying. He felt his stomach twist.

The film ended depressingly, with Jimmy having to go to the police as well, along with dire warnings about how to avoid homosexuals. It seemed that even though Ralph was the criminal here, Jimmy ended up getting some of the blame, too.

Ponyboy looked around as the lights came on, and saw that the other guys in the class, usually a bit rambunctious after a film ended, were quiet and sober. Mr. Holloway set the projector to rewind, and then began speaking, albeit with some embarrassment.

"As you can see, these… homosexuals, they're out there. Now, we have laws against those kind of people, but you can never be too careful."

He brought his hands together in a clap, and opened his mouth. Before he could speak, the rewinding reel began making a slapping noise as the loose end of the film hit the projector. He turned off the projector, and the reel came to a stop. He pulled it off the projector spindle and put it back in the thin canister, then put it on the middle shelf of the trolley on which the projector sat.

He then spoke up. "Right. I'll dismiss you early today, and we'll call this a study hall. Get out your homework or what-have-you. There's about half an hour left 'till lunch. No point in continuing the lesson right now."

Ponyboy sighed in relief as he dug out his English homework and let his eyes roam over the page – though he didn't get a whole lot done while his mind started an adventure in self-loathing.

III

Unfortunately, that afternoon was when Nicholas Westlake chose to attach himself to Ponyboy for math tutoring, seeing as they'd just gotten out of math class for last period.

He had said, "Might as well follow you as not – be easier to make sure I got the right address this way."

Then Nicky followed Ponyboy to his locker, and silently watched as Ponyboy, nervously trying not to look at Nicky like _that_, was struggling with his books. Finally, just as his biology, chemistry and civics textbooks all threatened to fall out of the locker at once, Nicky came up beside Ponyboy, their shoulders touching, and helped straighten out the books, lining them up neatly. Ponyboy nearly jerked away, then realized if he did so, his books might fall out again while they were straightening the mess out.

After the books were all sorted, Ponyboy stuffed his coiled math notebook and textbook into his carryall, and locked the locker. He nodded curtly at Nicky, and said, "C'mon. We'll go to my place now. Let's see if Two-Bit didn't get a detention this time. Maybe we can get a ride."

Sure enough, Two-Bit was in his car, running the engine to keep the car warm in the chilly winter twilight. Two-Bit leaned out the window, bellowing, "I'll be damned! It's Nicky! How's it swinging? Little to the left today?"

Ponyboy, a bit shocked at the reference, let out a strangled cough as Nicholas nonchalantly yelled, "The usual way, from side to side, ya know."

As they got closer, Two-Bit said, "So, Ponyboy. How do you know this jackass over here, huh?"

Nicky said playfully, "Oh, jackass, huh? That's fightin' words, Mister Mathews."

Two-Bit just cocked his eyebrow as Ponyboy, chuckling despite himself, said, "Mrs. Thomas said I had to help him with his math. I sassed her the other day and this is my, she says, 'punishment'."

"Beats a detention by a mile, Pony. You two want a ride?"

Ponyboy and Nicky didn't waste any time hustling into the car as Two-Bit rolled up his window and threw the heater on full blast before backing the old Plymouth out of the parking spot, then guiding it onto the road.

Amazingly, the radio worked, and the three of them let the tunes of Billy Davis's "Lonely Teardrops" fill the car. Ponyboy looked out the passenger side window as he tried to put out of his mind the film he'd seen. His stomach hadn't really stopped twisting itself into knots since the film, but now the jittery feeling was back, as strong as it had been just after the bombshell about homosexuals in that damned film.

Sighing, he leaned his head against the glass and closed his eyes as he felt the coldness crawl over his skull.

* * *

Author Notes:

I want to thank **Misfit Greaser** for his kind permission to use his OC and aspects of his fic, "A Purpose for Being", as well as beta reading to make sure I got Nicky in character. I also thank **Marauder and the Q** for her beta work. :)

For those of you who've noticed similarities between "A Purpose for Being" and this fic, they're intentional. This was conceived as a sort of slash AU version of that fic. :-D

Also, FYI, "Boys Beware" is a real film. You can download it off the Prelinger Archives or watch it on YouTube. It's a laughably inaccurate portrayal of the alleged dangers of homosexual men. In actual fact, it would be a rather accurate film _if_ the warnings had been about pedophiles, but the filmmakers made the same error a lot of people do - which is to mix up preference for the same gender with preference for underage boys or girls.


	3. Chapter 3

**On the Wrong Side**  
Chapter 3

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to S. E. Hinton.

* * *

Unfortunately for Ponyboy, cars were swift conveyances, and the one time Ponyboy wished it took longer, even in winter, to get home, it was almost too short. The three of them were already piling out of the car and walking up to the Curtis house. Ponyboy reminded himself he'd have to act normal, _be_ normal, in front of Darry and everybody and concentrate on quadratic equations and other boring math stuff.

He brought up the rear as Two-Bit swung the screen door wide open so Nicky could catch it. Two-Bit banged once on the front door and then bellowed, "Cavalry comin' in!"

The three of them then went inside. Sodapop stuck his head out from behind the stove and said, "Hey, there. Ponyboy, Dar phoned over and said for me to cook 'cause he'll be runnin' late. He says, and I quote, 'the genius that decided to build houses in winter because he thought it'd save money on labor and materials didn't figure on higher workplace accidents 'cause of it.' I guess that means one of the guys on the project got laid up in the hospital and everybody else had to work harder to make up for it."

A shiver of fear ran through Ponyboy as he wondered what it would be like seeing Darry, his tall and proud older brother, lying in a hospital bed.

Sodapop was rambling on, though. "Me, I'm here since the boss closed the DX early. Practically nobody was comin' round for gas." He tilted his head slightly at Nicky. "So anyway, new fella, what's with you?"

Ponyboy replied, "This here's Nicholas Westlake, the guy I gotta tutor in math."

"Hi! I'm Sodapop, by the way. Pony told us a little about you, Nicholas. Whyn't you guys all just get started doing whatever? I'm gonna be a bit busy. Two-Bit, get your butt over here and help me for once and don't distract Ponyboy. Dar's keepin' an eye on his grades again."

With the expression of a born martyr, Two-Bit resignedly trudged over to the kitchen and began making a big production out of holding the vegetable strainer for Sodapop. Meanwhile, Ponyboy gestured Nicholas over to the table, and they silently sat down and began hauling out their math books. Nicky brought his chair a bit closer to Ponyboy's, so they could easily see each other's work.

As they began working on the assigned homework, plus the suggested extra credit problems (Mrs. Thomas had looked pointedly at Nicholas when she said they were a good way to pull up lower grades), it was clear that Nicky had a fairly decent grasp of most of the material but got stuck when questions threw a bit of a curve ball.

However, Ponyboy's concentration was shattered when Nicky's leg brushed against his as he leaned over slightly and said, "Hey. You know how to handle this one where we need to complete the square?"

Ponyboy's heart leapt into his throat, and his mouth went suddenly dry. Licking his lips nervously, he said, "Um, y-yeah, here's how I did it…"

Hoping that Nicky hadn't noticed his sudden stammering, Ponyboy quickly began explaining the answer. Deciding he needed to talk about something, after Nicky finished writing the answer down, he said, "So you've lived in Tulsa your whole life?"

"Yeah."

"What do your parents do?"

"Well, Mom worked as a teacher – she taught third grade. I lived with her over in the West End until she died a few years ago. Then Dad took me in and I live downtown with him. He owns a shop."

"So what do you do when you're not in classes?"

Nicky brightened up a bit. "I've got a guitar. Been playing since I picked one up when I was four years old. I'm pretty good now; some friends of mine started a band with me and we play together a lot."

Even as Ponyboy smiled at Nicky's enthusiasm, he couldn't help but get the feeling Nicky was hiding something. He said, "Well, I read a lot and I'm going out for track. But we better get back to this homework or Mrs. Thomas'll have a fit."

The next hour or so went on like this, until the rush of cold air entering the house brought the two of them out of their quiet back-and-forth over the assignment. Two-Bit bellowed, "Relief! Relief, I say, from the slavery of cooking!"

Darry's response was a deep chuckle as he shut the door, then pulled off his shoes. He said, "Well, I take it Sodapop roped you into helping do the cooking?"

"Yep. Now I'm done with that part." Two-Bit looked out at the last vestiges of the twilight and muttered, "Damn. I heard it was gonna snow tonight."

In a louder voice, he announced, "I better get back so my mama doesn't worry 'bout me or Grace."

Scattered goodbyes went around the room as Two-Bit banged the door shut. Not long after, they heard the rumble of the Plymouth's engine, and Sodapop hammed it up as he breathed a sigh of relief. "Imagine push-startin' a car like _that_ with potentially ass-wounding ice on the roads."

Darry gave Sodapop the hairy eyeball, then turned to the table and said, "Hi there. Sorry for ignorin' you two earlier. You're the Nicholas Westlake guy I heard Ponyboy say he was gonna tutor in math?"

Nicholas got out of his chair, and as he did so he looked like he was going to extend his hand to shake, then seemed to do a double-take. Ponyboy suddenly felt a flare of something in his chest as Nicky's eyes seemed to be drinking Darry in.

Nicky spluttered, "Glory, Ponyboy, you didn't say anythin' about having a bouncer for a brother!"

He hesitantly stuck his hand out to shake, and Darry took it briefly as he said, "I _don't_ do that kinda thing. My name's Darrel Curtis."

Nicholas seemed to have realized his _faux pas_ as he said, "Sorry 'bout that. It's just, you're so _tall_."

Darry shrugged off the incident, saying, "Forget it. Anyway, 'case you weren't introduced, the fella in the kitchen makin' our food look all funny is Sodapop."

"He told me earlier," Nicky said. "Most people call me Nicky. So, what do I call you?"

"Calling me 'Darry' is fine. I'm Ponyboy's oldest brother, and Sodapop's the middle brother. It's gettin' on near five-thirty now, and I think Sodapop's about done the cookin'. We could squeeze you in for supper, but—"

Nicky looked a bit upset. "Oh, rats! Five-thirty? I gotta go. I'm supposed to, um, help the old man out at home today, and he said to be home by six. Sorry. I gotta run. Ponyboy? Thanks for the help and I'll check in with ya tomorrow."

As the guy gathered up his books and hurriedly got ready to leave, Darry said, "Whoa, whoa, easy there! It's pretty cold out there, and it's gettin' dark. Won't be safe out there, either from the cold or from anybody lookin' to thump you. I'll give you a ride. Won't be but a few minutes. Ponyboy, Sodapop— you go ahead and eat."

Ponyboy couldn't quite work out the emotions that flickered across Nicky's face. He seemed almost ashamed of something. Or worried.

Finally, Nicky nodded, and the two stepped outside. Ponyboy finally shrugged to himself, at least satisfied that he'd finally figured out Nicky's eye color.

He had hazel eyes.

Hazel was a nice color.

III

When Darry came back in the promised fifteen minutes, he seemed to have fallen into a bit of a brown study, Ponyboy thought. Darry had quickly spooned food onto his plate and begun catching up, without a word to either of his brothers. Ponyboy was just finishing, slowly washing down each bite with his Pepsi.

Darry spoke as Ponyboy was in the middle of his sip from his Pepsi bottle. "Say, did you know your buddy's dad owns a place called the Dragon's Den?"

Confused, Ponyboy swallowed, and then it clicked as to what Nicky was being a bit evasive about. Nicky must not have wanted Ponyboy to know about his dad owning a nightclub or some place like that. He put the bottle down, and said, "Um… should I know about that place? Is it a nightclub or somethin'? Honest, Dar, I wouldn't go there if you said for me not to go. Oh, um… Nicky's not really my buddy. Sort of."

_But you liked his eyes. And you got jealous when he stared at Darry for a sec._

Irritated, Ponyboy squashed that train of thought, reminding himself that he couldn't go thinking of Nicky like _that_.

But Darry was replying. "Well, it's definitely not a place I'd like to see you bein' at. Said he plays in a band in the bar, that's how he earns his keep – though I had to practically drag it out of him about his band. So at least he doesn't seem the type to take advantage of his dad and get drunk all the time. Decent head on his shoulders that way, at least."

Ponyboy, suddenly seeing what Darry might be nearing at, blurted, "Darry, don't make me stop meetin' him. Mrs. Thomas'll be pretty upset if I can't tutor him."

Darry seemed a bit bowled over. "Whatever made you think that? As long as he comes over here or you tutor him at school, I'm happy. Just better to be safe than sorry what with the social workers makin' noises a few months ago about takin' you and Soda away from me."

Ponyboy's stomach twisted, this time in memory of the feeling he got when he read the article in the paper. That hadn't been a fun experience, wondering if the stories about boys' homes were true.

He mumbled, "Okay. Sorry, Dar."

He perked up a second later, saying, "Hey. How was my math? Good, huh?"

Darry smiled. "You must think I'm psychic. I didn't have a chance to more than glance at it before I had to drive Nicholas back. But I didn't see anything too badly wrong, so I guess you're on the right track. Let me have a closer look at it tonight, and then you can explain it to Nicholas if he got anything wrong. All right, little buddy?"

Ponyboy grinned. "Okay. Hey, Soda, where's your head?"

Sodapop was clearly daydreaming, but came back to himself when his name was called. He looked down at his soggy carrots, sighed, forked a few into his mouth and chewed. Then he said, "There was a bit of a slow period around noon today, and I was hopin' the boss wouldn't come by and chew Steve and me out for lounging. But right around then, the most beautiful girl in a few weeks, I _swear_, came by the DX, and it turns out we was at the junior school together. And boy howdy, did she become a knockout, Dar. Get this, okay? Her name's _Dylan,_ and she even says you spell it D-Y-L-A-N. Not D-I-L-L-O-N."

Ponyboy couldn't help himself. He laughed loudly and had to hold the table to support himself.

Darry guffawed, as well. After he was able to get a word out without chuckling, said, "So, she's decided to just _call_ herself that? A guy's name?"

"Well, yeah. See…" Sodapop's voice got really confidential as he said, "Her real name's Emily Hackman. But she's this _huge_ hippie groupie, man. She showed up in a VW Beetle, for cryin' out loud. I'm not joking, Dar."

Ponyboy just shook his head at the craziness of some girls. He chewed the last of his own carrots, then began clearing the table. "Hey, Darry? I'll get you that homework just after I put these in the sink. You want me to wash up?"

"Yeah. Get me that homework and I'll look it over while you clean the dishes and such. I'll bring you my plate when I'm finished. Get Soda's plate if he's done. And you, Soda, get your head outta the clouds; you take up with a girl like that and next thing you know she'll make you dress funny, like with those weird Navajo jackets and sandals, or something."

Sodapop's answer was a cheeky grin as he half-heartedly flipped a playing card at Darry. Ponyboy'd seen him pull the pack of cards out of his shirt as he cleared away the dishes and utensils.

Darry, picking up the card from the floor, said, "Now, Sodapop, I'll play poker with you later but I ain't gonna stand for you cheating at it. You save that for Steve."

Ponyboy smiled to himself as he ran the hot water while reaching for the dishcloth. It was good to know things were okay and _normal_. At least in his family, for that night.

* * *

Author Note:

I'd like to thank **Misfit Greaser** for checking this chapter for characterization and allowing me to use his OCs and elements of his fic. I'd also like to thank both **mars on fire** and **Marauder and the Q** for their beta work, and **Artemis Rex** for allowing me to borrow the name of her OC.

zevie's review has prompted some changes in this chapter. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**On the Wrong Side**  
Chapter 4

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to S. E. Hinton.

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The next day, Ponyboy was at his locker a few minutes before the morning bell. As he took out his books for his classes, he saw Nicky coming towards him, smiling. That smile at Ponyboy's presence stirred a strange feeling somewhere around his stomach. Ponyboy's return smile was partly provoked by Nicky's rather odd paint-streaked shirt, and he said, "Hey. I thought you played in a band, not messed with paint buckets."

Nicky's smile faded a little as he said, "Oh. Well, yeah, I do play the guitar, and I guess your brother told you I play at the bar my Dad owns. Anyway, I was doing an odd job for a friend of my Dad's a few days ago and I just forgot to clean it. He wanted help painting a bathroom."

A question occurred to Ponyboy. "Hey, how come I never noticed you were accelerated, like me, anyway?"

Nicky, exaggerating his head-scratching and pondering, said, "Weeeeeeeeeell, lemme think… Gee, there was that big thing about you bein' away from school and the court case and on and on. Anybody'd be a little less observant about his classmates, right?"

The bell rang for morning classes, and the volume jumped as students in the hallway who'd been fairly quietly talking suddenly began slamming lockers and pelting off for classes.

Reluctantly, Ponyboy nodded, not wanting to think too much about last summer with Johnny and Dallas, but also not wanting to have to stop chatting with Nicky. Ponyboy shut his locker, waved his book and said, "Gotta go. I'll see you at lunch or somethin'. Darry checked over my homework so we can make sure you got everything right, too."

Nicky briefly touched Ponyboy's arm, saying, "Sure. See you later."

III

Ponyboy walked to his English class and sat down at his desk. He tried to put the memory of the tingle up his spine from Nicky's touch out of his head as he focused on Mr. Syme.

The teacher had the class read the first two chapters of The Prince and the Pauper, which didn't take long, after which he led the class in a discussion on the differences in the way people lived in England at the time.

Unfortunately, just like in math class that other time, Ponyboy started drifting off, remembering how Nicky's hand had felt when they shook hands and the jolt he'd felt when their legs had touched briefly the other night.

Mr. Syme's voice broke in on his meanderings. "Ponyboy, what do you think of the way Tom Canty escaped from his life by fantasizing about royalty?"

Feeling like a complete idiot, Ponyboy floundered for a reply, trying to recall the specifics. He said lamely, "Um… well, I thought it was interesting, you know, because, well… I don't pretend to be a rich kid when I think about things."

Mr. Syme gave Ponyboy a searching look, then went on as though nothing had happened. That made Ponyboy feel worse than if he'd been reprimanded for woolgathering, as though he hadn't even been worth correcting.

Civics with Mrs. Krieger didn't help. A pop quiz at the end of class caught Ponyboy unprepared, and to his dismay, it had been on class material covered earlier that period, of which he remembered bits and pieces, thanks to his fading in and out as he had been thinking of Nicholas Westlake in ways that were decidedly not normal.

Ponyboy didn't _like_ feeling this way; he felt like he'd just lost control of everything that mattered. Guys didn't moon over other guys!

Ponyboy made an executive decision to avoid Nicky at lunch, and took off with Two-Bit to the greaser hangout at the corner grocery store to sneak a smoke and wolf down the ham sandwich he'd slapped together that morning.

After he finished the sandwich, he rubbed his hands and pulled his jacket around him a bit tighter, saying, "Geez, it's still so damn cold! When the hell is spring gonna get here?"

Two-Bit's answer was cut off as a Mustang pulled up in the parking lot, causing the crowd to go quiet. Surprise and resentment shot through Ponyboy as he saw Randy Adderson get out of the car. _Randy, the Soc. Randy, the guy who had it all together and wasn't screwing up his classes because he __wasn't__ a queer._

Another guy Ponyboy didn't know stepped out of the passenger side as a few greasers jeered half-heartedly, but for the most part they gave Randy and his Soc friend a wide berth. Randy's stolid expression melted a bit when he saw Ponyboy, and he seemed on the verge of smiling. That expression went away fast when Ponyboy turned away ostentatiously and said loudly to Two-Bit, "When did the well-bred trash with Mustangs to match decide to come on down here?" _Just like the old days, _thought Ponyboy.

Oddly, it didn't get as many laughs as it would have back in May, but nevertheless, Ponyboy vindictively smirked at the confused expression on Randy's face. His friend, exasperated, said, "Aw, c'mon, Randy. Let's just get our Cokes and get outta here. Why you thought the greasers wouldn't give us a hard time I'll never know."

The pair went into the store, and the banter resumed among the various greasers seated on cars or leaning against them. Two-Bit, under the babble, said into Ponyboy's ear, "What's _with_ you today? You got all cold like you did back in October, you know. Seems I reckoned it wasn't a good idea then and it ain't a good idea now."

A bit spitefully, Ponyboy snapped, "Damn it, Two-Bit, if I want your advice, I'll ask, okay?"

Two-Bit seemed about to say something, then shrugged in resignation and lit up a cigarette.

As the door opened and Randy stepped back out, Coke in hand, Ponyboy looked away. Randy got into his car without a word to anyone, his friend following on the other side of the car. They _vroom_ed off without further ado.

At least Ponyboy had had control over _something_ so far that day.

III

Classes that afternoon went a bit better. As the last bell rang, however, Ponyboy realized he had to find a way to ditch Nicky. He didn't want to face the guilt and the confusion he knew he'd have to deal with if he saw the boy.

He slipped to his locker and stuffed his bags in the carryall. He chewed his lip, considering as he worked out the sneakiest way out of the school. _Let's see now, up those stairs, north to the arts classroom and then back down_.

Feeling a bit like a CIA agent in the middle of the Lubyanka, he looked to his left and right every few steps, checking to make sure he wasn't going to bump into Nicky.

Unfortunately, disaster struck. Just as he pushed the door to go down the stairs next to the arts room, he heard someone's voice say, "Hey, Ponyboy! I thought we were supposed to meet for lunch. Where were you?"

He turned around and felt the uneasy roiling of his stomach as he regarded Nicky. Uncertain as to whether to lie his head off, Ponyboy settled for a shading of the truth. "Sorry, Nicky. Two-Bit wanted to go to lunch with me so we took off."

Blankly, Nicky said, "Oh." He held up his math book and said, "Well, did you want to do the math stuff now?"

Nervously, Ponyboy said, "Um… I can't. I… have stuff to do, you know."

Nicky's eyes narrowed. "Did your brother tell you to stay away from me or somethin' like that? I'm not _stupid_, you know, even if I act completely out of it about the whole social-rivalry thing here at school."

A bit confused, yet relieved, Ponyboy replied, "Uh, no… Darry didn't say anythin' about that really, except I wasn't supposed to be meeting you at your dad's bar."

Mollified, Nicky said, "Look, it's like this. My dad said I could either play for the customers, which I actually don't mind doin', or I could go work as a gas jockey or at the bowling alley to earn my keep. Put that way…"

Ponyboy nodded. "Yeah, I get the idea. You're lucky. I remember the time Sodapop spilled gas all over his pants somehow. Boy howdy, Darry wasn't pleased. Soda had to take his pants off outside and then dash in like a wolf was after him."

Ponyboy didn't know why he felt like appeasing Nicky's feelings as he blurted, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that when I said I was busy; I just don't really feel like looking at a math textbook today, you know?" He grinned nervously, hoping Nicky would leave him alone now.

Luckily, Nicky nodded in understanding and said, "Okay. I'll catch you tomorrow then."

And damn it all if he didn't casually put his hand on Ponyboy's shoulder and squeeze lightly before heading down the stairs.

Now Ponyboy had twice as much distraction to deal with as he trudged slowly down the stairs and left the school.

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Author Note:

I'd like to thank **Misfit Greaser** for checking this chapter for characterization and allowing me to use his OCs and elements of his fic. I'd also like to thank **Marauder and the Q** for her beta work.

This fic/chapter is being posted as part of "Good Fic Day," an effort to raise the quality of writing here. We hope to encourage more writers to improve the quality of their own fan fiction - spell check, grammar check, keep the gang in character, outline, plot and don't use Mary Sues. Good fan fiction requires effort, and we would like to encourage other writers to rise to the challenge of producing better fan fiction, not only for our readers, but for S.E. Hinton, who created the wonderful book we are trying to honor.


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